


feed the hunger

by callunavulgari



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Casual Sex, Fuckbuddies, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 09:52:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14446707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/callunavulgari
Summary: “Thought you wanted to fuck me, Hargrove,” Steve whispers, and presses a sweet kiss to the hinge of Billy's jaw. “Now's your chance.”





	feed the hunger

**Author's Note:**

> Otherwise known as the fic where Billy and Steve fuck around for a while and catch feelings. Written for purely selfish reasons. I basically wrote this while listening to [Daddy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WLgVU9i0wa8) on repeat, if you want some excellent Harringrove mood music.

They’re standing on a balcony in the early hours of the morning. The grass is wet with dew, the party inside having died down hours ago, leaving the front yard dotted with solo cups and cigarette butts. There’s a girl asleep in the bushes, sprawled out with a bottle of whiskey tucked into her arms like a teddy bear.

Billy’s watched Steve Harrington kiss five girls tonight. The first two he’d kissed during a laughably awful game of spin the bottle, polite pecks at the corners of their mouth. They’d giggled and he’d swished his drink around and excused himself to the kitchen.

The third he’d kissed outside the bathroom on the first floor. Billy thinks that Steve might have been a little drunker by then, his eyes bright, his gestures broader - more erratic. He’d stumbled a little when he stood up from the couch, listed a little too far to the left on his way to the bathroom, and when the girl poured herself into his arms, sloppily kissing up his neck and nibbling on his ear he’d had to catch himself against the door. Billy had watched the flush flare red across Steve’s cheekbones, how his throat had bobbed when she finally made it to his mouth. He’d opened his mouth under hers, and kissed her deep. But only for a moment.

Billy had lost track of Steve for a while after that, but he’d caught the fourth kiss, a junior with red hair who kissed him as they stumbled out of the bedroom, still thumbing come from the corners of her mouth. Steve’s hair was a wreck, his face red, eyes glassy. Definitely drunk by then.

The fifth had kissed him in the living room, on a dare from her friend. Steve had melted against her, curled his fingers into her glossy brown hair and lost himself to it. Billy had watched them for too long, too tipsy to be careful about it, so when Steve’s eyes had opened, they’d met Billy’s from across the room.

He’d deepened the kiss, tugged her hair a little, and _watched Billy as he did it_.

And now - now it’s four in the morning, and Steve is standing across from him smoking a cigarette. He smells like liquor and sweat, maybe a little bit like that last girl’s perfume - something vaguely floral. There’s lipstick stains clinging to his lower lip, a smear of it at his jaw.

Steve is still watching him.

“I could give it to you better than any of those bitches, Harrington, and you fucking know it,” he sneers. They’re the first words that he’s spoken to Steve all night.

Steve stubs his cigarette out in the pudding cup sitting by his elbow and shrugs.

“Sure,” he says flatly. “Why not?”

Billy freezes mid-drag and blinks, once, twice. Slowly, he lowers the cigarette. “Be careful what you say, princess. A boy might get ideas.”

Steve stands up and drags Billy in by his belt hoops. He plucks the cigarette out of Billy's lax fingers and takes a slow, lazy drag. He lets the smoke out all at once, his mouth open near Billy's, and flashes him a look beneath lowered lashes.

“Thought you wanted to fuck me, Hargrove,” he whispers, and presses a sweet kiss to the hinge of Billy's jaw. “Now's your chance.”

Billy swallows past the lump in his throat. He glances around, past Steve to the deserted yard, his eyes darting to the corner of the house where anyone could stumble by.

“Here?” he asks, half strangled.

Steve laughs, a husky chuckle that Billy’s used to hearing from girls when they’ve got their fists wrapped around his dick. “If you want me to blow you, then sure, why not.”

His hand drifts down, skating along the tops of Billy’s jeans. His fingers brush Billy’s stomach and Billy shivers. He licks his lips.

“But,” Steve whispers, his smile going dark. “If you wanted more…”

Billy grabs for Steve’s wrist in the dark and finds it, pulling him in close. Steve’s eyes are dark, his mouth red and wet, and god, Billy wants.

“Where?” he asks, and Steve smiles at him like he’s won a prize.

He fucks Steve for the first time in the backseat of his camaro. He’s fucked girls there a few times, taken them out to the quarry and laid them out in the backseat all nice and sweet, their legs tucked neatly around his waist. Steve kicks off his jeans before they’re even in the car, shoving Billy into the backseat and crawling into his lap while they’re still parked outside of Jill’s house. He kisses hard and fast and deep, his hands all over the place, like he doesn’t know what he wants to touch first.

He preps himself one-handed, jerking Billy off as he gets three knuckles deep inside of himself, and when it's time, he straddles Billy’s lap and works himself back onto his cock. His throat glistens with sweat, and he lets out a noise that’s half sigh, half grunt, and goes still and quiet.

He quivers, so Billy touches him, fans his palm out along Steve’s ribs.

He swallows. “Okay?”

Steve looks at him. His face is red, brown curls loose and hanging in his face. There’s a bruise on his neck the shape of Billy’s mouth.

“Yeah,” he says, and uses his hands to hold Billy down.

 

They fuck again a week later, in the bathroom closest to the art room during last period. Steve catches him coming back from his locker and raises an eyebrow as he ducks inside. Billy follows him, and locks the door behind him.

He blows Steve against the door, and then fucks him sloppy and stupid.

“Next time,” Steve gasps as he’s trying - unsuccessfully - to work one leg back into his jeans, “just come by my house.”

Billy looks at him. “Seriously?”

“It’s not like my parents are home anyway.” Steve shrugs, then squints at Billy. He wrinkles his nose and tugs him closer, already reaching. “C’mere, you have come on your chin.”

 

Billy lasts three days before he caves and drives all the way over to Steve’s stupid fancy house. When Billy rings the doorbell he almost, almost, expects a butler to greet him.

Steve opens the door wearing a white cashmere sweater. He blinks at Billy for a moment, then says, “Oh.”

Billy runs a hand through his hair.

“Offer still on the table?”

Steve blinks at him some more, then shrugs.

“Sure,” he says, turning around and leaving the door wide open behind him for Billy to follow. He works the sweater off over his head and tosses it to the ground inside the foyer, glancing back at Billy over his shoulder as he goes, “Wanna do it _on_ the table? I have pasta going so you’ll have to make it quick.”

Billy thumbs his jeans open, rounding the corner right as Steve is sliding himself onto the incredibly expensive-looking mahogany table. He shucks his jeans as Billy watches, his dick already half hard.

“You got stuff?” he asks, and Billy chucks a tube of lube at him.

Steve snorts and spreads his thighs, popping the cap on the tube. His breath hitches as he works two fingers into himself. He bites down hard on his lower lip and looks at Billy. “On second thought, go turn off the burner for me.”

Billy does.

When he gets back, Steve’s spine is arching off the table. His lips are wet and shiny. He grins when he sees Billy, a quick baring of his teeth.

“Mm, good,” he says, and lets Billy between his spread thighs. “Fuck me hard this time, would you? I want to feel you in the morning.”

Billy lines himself up, sinking in nice and slow. His voice shakes. “You want to see if the table will break, don’t you?”

Steve laughs, and hooks his ankles at the base of Billy’s spine, yanking him in closer. They both groan when Billy slides even deeper.

“I definitely want to see if the table will break,” he says, and pulls Billy down for a kiss.

They eat spaghetti in the kitchen afterwards, still naked, and Billy fucks him again over the arm of the couch before he leaves.

 

They don’t talk about it. It goes on for weeks, and then months. Billy shows up when he wants to, or when Steve gives him a telling look before they leave school. They fuck all over the house, and when the months start getting warmer, Billy spreads Steve out on a pool chaise, rubs sunscreen into his shoulders, and eats him out until Steve is begging. 

He brings books, and snacks, and leaves a change of clothes in the trunk of his car.

The first time that Steve fucks Billy is also the first time that they have sex in Steve’s bed. Billy sucks him slow and sweet, until Steve is begging for it, and then he guides Steve’s fingers down past his dick, to where Billy’s already sloppy wet and ready.

He sleeps over that night, and when he wakes up the next morning, Steve’s made pancakes with blueberries in them. There’s coffee, and it’s a slow, lazy Saturday.

He could go to a party that night, maybe get Jessica’s number, but he stays with Steve instead. They don’t even fuck until late that night, when they’re in Steve’s bedroom. Steve is warm, his body inviting, and he spreads his legs easily when Billy slides between them.

They rut in the darkness, and it feels different, after an entire day together. Steve’s gasps are sweeter, the curve of his neck more inviting. His eyes are wide and dark and they watch Billy as he works himself inside.

“Please,” Steve says, and Billy does it slow just to see him squirm.

“You are better, you know,” Steve says, when they’re laying in bed afterward. He’s got one leg hitched around Billy’s, the sweat drying between them.

Billy makes a quiet noise of inquiry, his nose smushed against Steve’s collarbone.

Steve’s quiet long enough that Billy tips his head up to look at him, squinting up at his face in the dark.

“Than those girls,” Steve says at last. “You’re better than any of them.”

Billy sighs and presses a slow, lingering kiss to the center of Steve’s chest. The night is quiet and Steve’s house is big and lonely. Sometimes, when he’s here long enough, he can almost forget that there’s a world outside of the two of them.

It makes him honest.

“I’m really not.”

Steve shifts, peering down at him. He narrows his eyes.

“You’re an asshole, Billy Hargrove,” he decides. “But I think I'll keep you around anyway.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> For those interested, my [main blog](http://callunavulgari.tumblr.com/) and my [writing blog](http://callunawrites.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
